


Two Good Old Boys (And a Thief) Behind the Wheel

by meils121



Category: Leverage
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Multi, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: Road trips are fun.  Road trips of justice are even more fun.Or:  The story of Parker, Eliot, and Hardison as they cross the country in Lucille, catching bad guys and 'rescuing' stolen jewels.  There might be some kissing involved too.





	Two Good Old Boys (And a Thief) Behind the Wheel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glinda/gifts).



_Somewhere between Daglum, North Dakota and Checkerboard, Montana_

 

            The time between _too late_ and _too early_ has always been a magical place for Parker.  She’s always existed at the edge of real and possible anyways.  This is just an extension of that, a daily reminder of the way the universe can twist and shift and make the unlikely happen.  Even the air tastes different when Parker rolls down the window and takes a deep breath.  The sky hangs over them, that odd in-between color that somehow speaks to Parker’s soul.  The sun’s out there, somewhere, but so too is the moon, and old-Parker relishes being in the company of her old friend, of the moonlight that has lit so many of her escapes and escapades.

            The roads - scarcely populated during the day - are empty.  It’s just them and Lucille, her wheels carrying them closer and closer to their destination.  It’s been a long trip, but that’s okay.  Eliot had grumbled when Hardison announced they were grounded - literally - for the foreseeable future, at least until Hardison can figure out who is tracking them and Eliot can make them stop.  But Parker - Parker loves the open road, loves the unending possibilities of what’s in front of them. 

            She always takes the night drives.  Hardison is protective of Lucille during the day, insisting on being the one behind the wheel, but there’s only so long one person can drive before road and horizon blend together.  Then Eliot takes over.  He probably could take the night drives, his odd sleep schedule similar to Parker’s.  But he yields the wheel to Parker around eleven at night, always catching a couple hours of sleep before joining her in mostly silence as the night and miles roll by.

            They’d been in Chicago that morning.  A job gone well, by all accounts.  But there’s a new one in Checkerboard, and if Parker wants to take it mostly because of the town’s name, that’s something she keeps to herself.  Hardison is incredulous that any place can have so few people.  Parker, though - Parker is intrigued.  She’s never run a con in a place that everyone knows everyone, that new people are automatically treated with the sort of suspicion that only comes with generations of practice.  And, to be fair, they aren’t exactly running a con.  It’s more of a smash and grab, but with more elegance.  Because Parker likes elegance, as long as it doesn’t come in the form of long dresses that make it difficult to run. 

            It’s not too long before the sun rises and Eliot grumbles about finding a diner along the road for breakfast.  Hardison consults the GPS over waffles and declares they’re only about an hour away. 

            Parker arrives in Checkerboard in the passenger seat, Hardison muttering about something in the driver’s seat next to her.  Eliot’s in the back, though he keeps popping his head into the front to mention something else about the job.

            They’ve pulled jobs like this before - small town, corrupt police officer.  Sometimes they play a long game, sometimes it’s a short con.  And sometimes - sometimes it’s Parker breaking into a car and planting evidence.  It’s Eliot donning a cowboy hat - much to his displeasure, because it’s a damn stereotype, _Hardison_.  It’s Hardison shrugging on an FBI jacket and waltzing into the police station and flashing a very good fake badge.  

            “I’m disappointed in you, son.”  The sheriff says some time later, shaking his head at a now-handcuffed deputy trying to claim the drugs they found in his car aren’t his.  The sheriff shakes Hardison’s hand and thanks him for bringing this drug smuggling to his attention.  It’s clean and easy and over in a matter of hours.  

            They’re several miles outside of town when Eliot breaks the silence.  “You know there are dirty people all over the damn country, Parker.  We can’t swoop in and stop them all.”  

            And Parker does know that.  She also knows that the sound Lucille is making means engine trouble, so she elects to ignore Eliot for the time being and tells Hardison to pull over.

            Eliot follows her out of the car.  He knows better than to get between her and an engine, at least, and he just watches as she pops the hood and starts rummaging around.  “Are we going to talk about this?”  He asks finally. 

            “We were close by.”  She says, the words an obvious lie.  Eliot rolls his eyes.

            “Parker -”

            “I don’t like dirty cops.”  She says.  “Okay?  I just - don’t like them.”

            Eliot pauses.  “Why?”

            Lucille makes a bit of a groaning noise, but Parker pats her side and tells her that she just needs a couple of minutes to cool off.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  She says, but she thinks Eliot might be able to guess anyways.  A lot of people have let Parker down along the way, especially kid-Parker who just needed one adult to hear what she had to say, and who never got that chance.

            “Just tell me we’re headed back towards civilization.”  Eliot says.  “And let me punch somebody.”

            Parker grins.  “Deal.”  She agrees.

 

_Just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada_

 

            Eliot doesn’t like Las Vegas.  It’s a good thing, then, that they’ve left - there’s only so many flashing lights and jackpot sounds a man can take, and even fewer times he can herd Parker away from the lure of money.  They’ve been on the road all of half an hour, Parker still cradling the suitcase of jewels she’d - ahem - recovered from a casino vault and complaining that casinos didn’t even make it tough anymore.  Hardison chimes in with a reminder that the reason it was easy was because he does his job, damn it. 

            Eliot stops that particular conversation before Parker can try - as she’s done in the past - to argue that he shouldn't make it so easy.  The last thing they need is for her to get caught.  Not when there’s no way to get backup here without every fed in the country breathing down their necks.

            “I’m naming this one Sassafras.”  Parker says, holding up one of the jewels and examining it in the fading sunlight.  

            “You don’t name jewels.”  Eliot says, half-heartedly at best because Parker’s taken to naming everything, ever since Hardison let her start naming the beer he makes.  

            At the same time Hardison says, “Remember we’re giving those back, babe.”

            “I know.”  Parker says with a little sigh.  She sets the jewel back down and pouts.  “Stolen family heirlooms, I get it.”

            They’re somewhere in the desert when night falls, endless stretches of dirt and sand reaching out in all directions.  Hardison drives a little ways off the road and parks Lucille.  Dinner is prepackaged sandwiches and bottled water, and they eat under an unending sky of stars.  

            “Can you really wish on a star?”  Parker asks in that oddly innocent way of hers, her eyes dreamy and guarded all at once.  Eliot can guess the question she’s really asking, but he lets Hardison answer.  The other man’s better at this, especially when it comes to Parker.  

            “Go ahead and try.”  Hardison says.  He reaches down and interlaces his fingers with Parker’s.  “Make your wish, mama.”

            Parker looks uncertain, but she screws her eyes shut and takes a deep breath.  Her fingers tap uncertainly on her thigh as her lips sound out the words she’s thinking.  Eliot looks away.  He’s not going to read her lips, even though he could.  Parker deserves to make her wish in peace.

            They’re all too tired to keep driving, and there’s just enough room in the back for them to lay out in a row - Eliot, then Parker, then Hardison.  It’s not exactly comfortable, but Eliot’s slept in enough underground cells and on hard ground that he doesn’t really care. 

            Parker kisses Hardison goodnight, a sweet kiss that leaves them both with dumb smiles.  And then she turns to Eliot and presses a soft kiss against his lips.  “Love you.”  She says, like she does every night.  And every other time, Eliot just says goodnight, not yet ready to admit how much the other two mean to him. 

            Tonight, something pulls at him, tugging at his heart.  He feels safe in this van, tucked next to the two people he trusts with his life.  

            “Love you too.”  He says.

            Parker gasps.  “My wish came true!”  She says.  She’s still smiling when she falls asleep.

 

_Three miles north of Willows, California_

 

            Hardison doesn’t trust places that don’t have a wifi signal.  He leans back and waves his phone in the air a few times.  Nothing.  

            “What are we doing in the middle of nowhere?”  He grouches.  “I don’t do the middle of nowhere.”

            Eliot doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he answers.  “You’ve been in the middle of nowhere plenty of times, and this doesn’t count.”  He says.  “And pay attention.  I don’t want to miss our turn.”

            “We wouldn’t risk that if the damn GPS would work.”  Hardison grouches.  “But no, you need a damn signal for that!”

            Parker pops up from the back of the van.  “I think we’re being followed.”  She says, in that sort of casual way of hers that doesn’t quite match her words.  Hardison twists in his seat and peers in the rearview mirror. 

            “Eliot?”

            “Yeah, we’re being followed.”  Eliot says.  “They peeled out of town right after us.”

            “So we’re just going to let them follow us?”  Hardison asks.  “We don’t know who they are!”

            “Use the license plate.”  Parker suggests.

            “I would, if we weren’t in the middle of nowhere and I had a signal.”  Hardison mutters under his breath. 

            “Well, only one way to find out, then.”  Eliot pulls over at the side of the road.  They may only be a few miles outside of the town limits, but it sure feels like they’ve been stranded on a deserted island.  Behind them, the Jeep pulls over too. 

            “That’s not great.”  Hardison says, heart sinking a little more when he realizes the Jeep’s door is opening and a guy with muscles that would put the Rock to shame steps out.  

            “Howdy, folks.”  The guy says, and if he had a hat he would have tipped it.  His accent is real - Texas, most likely - but the smile plastered across his face is a fake that Sophie would be severely disappointed by.  “Car trouble?”

            Eliot’s smile is still fake - Hardison’s been around him long enough to tell the difference - but comes off a lot more real than muscle man’s.  “Don’t worry.”  He says, fake-cheerful.  “I’ve got a mechanic on board.” 

            The man flashes a badge, and Hardison is almost insulted at how obviously horrible the fake is.  It pains him, it really does.  He almost says something to the guy, but manages to bite his tongue before he starts off a fight.  

            “I’d feel better if I stayed with you until it’s fixed.”  The guy says.  “Officer Jones, by the way.  Mind handing me your license?”

            Parker leans forward.  “Stall.”  She hisses to Hardison.  He barely catches the back door opening and closing as she slides out of the van.

            “Plan W.”  Hardison says under his breath.  Eliot nods, almost imperceptible.  

            “License.”  The man says again, his tone growing a little harder.  And - with the majority of their covers blown - they’re in big trouble if they have to give him one of the licenses they’re carrying.  Real law enforcement - plus whatever bad guy this particular fake officer works for - will be raining down on them in a matter of minutes.

            “I’m going, I’m going.”  Eliot says.  He fumbles for a moment and pulls out his wallet.  “Let’s see -  nope, that’s a gift card.  Ah - no, no, that’s -”

            “I’m not giving you my license.”  Hardison says.  “I’m a sovereign citizen and you can’t make me.”

            “Oh for Pete’s sake, just give him the damn license.”  Eliot grouches.  “You always have to start this crap.”

            “I won’t do it.”  Hardison says.

            “Listen, buddy -”  The fake-cop starts.

            “No, you listen.”  Hardison says.  “I have rights.”

            “You don’t even know what your rights are.”  Eliot grumbles.

           Parker appears then and dangles something in front of Hardison’s face.  “Go.”

           Eliot nods at the fake police officer.  “Sorry, pal.”  He says, and steps on the gas.  

           Hardison takes the man’s keys from Parker.  “Good job.”  He says.  He glances in the mirror again and sees the man just as he realizes his keys are gone and he’s stuck in the middle of nowhere.

           “We need a new plan W.”  Eliot says as they round a corner.  “I’m getting sick of that one.”

           “Mmm.”  Parker says dreamily.  “I’ll think of a new one.”

           Eliot and Hardison exchange a quick glance.  Most of Parker’s plans are good, but the way she stalls normally involves tasers.  “You know what?”  Eliot says.  “Never mind.  I think we’re good.”

 

_Portland, Oregon_

 

            It’s been a long few weeks since they last parked Lucille outside the brew pub and walked through its doors.  Parker’s glad to be home.  As much as she loved their trip, there’s something nice about _familiar_ and _not moving_.  And it’s nice to be around her climbing rigs again.  

            “I’m never getting in a car again.”  Hardison says as he makes his way to the bar.  “We’re not pulling another job outside of Portland until this mess gets fixed, okay?”

            “Seconded!”  Eliot yells.  He’s already on his way to the kitchen, eager to check that they survived without him.  

            Parker flops into an empty booth.  “Deal.”  She agrees.  She knows it won’t be too long before they change their minds.  And there’s that money-grabbing landlord up in Vancouver that she’s been hearing about.  No, it’ll only be a few days before they’re on the road again.  In the meantime, she’s happy to soak in the feeling of being home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Glinda! Hope you enjoy this fic - it was so much fun to write, and such a great prompt!


End file.
